


overlapping waveforms

by birdginia



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, M/M, Mind Control, Mutual Non-Con, Other, Possession, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 08:30:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21353272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birdginia/pseuds/birdginia
Summary: “Call for help and I break your face,” Rich says. His voice sounds weirdly flat, toneless, but not in a way that makes his words sound any less threatening. And what would screaming for help do for him, anyway? He’d look weak, pathetic, unable to stand up for himself even faced with—with—
Relationships: Jeremy Heere/Jeremy Heere's Squip, Jeremy Heere/Rich Goranski('s body)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 102





	overlapping waveforms

**Author's Note:**

> i'm choosing not to give this a proper jeremy/rich tag, both because i don't want to disappoint people looking for that sweet sweet traumatized bros content, but also because how much rich is actually involved in this fic is very much up to debate. please mind the warnings.

"I'm not going," Jeremy snaps, out loud, once they're alone. Nobody's in the bathroom with him, he's pretty sure—and if someone is, they can fucking deal. "I need a break, okay? That was a _lot_ of crunches this morning, you know I'm worn out."

This is an opportunity. The party is being attended by an obscene number of popular girls, and proportionally a much smaller number of male students. With the right social maneuvers, you should be able to get two, maybe even three—

"Would you shut _up?_"

Jeremy stares into the mirror, meeting eyes with the Keanu staring over his shoulder. It's silent for a few seconds, then slowly dissolves without so much as a parting sneer.

Jeremy lets out a shaky breath. His stomach hurts—sore abs as well as pre-lunch gurgles—and he wants to do nothing but sit somewhere quiet for a while until biology class ends without him.

And then, of course, the door opens.

"Sup," Rich says, holding up a hand for a high-five that Jeremy meets on pure reflex. Rich clasps his hand in a proper bro-shake, pumping their fists, but Jeremy's heart is beyond not in it, and he lets his arm just sort of dangle uselessly in Rich's grasp.

"Something wrong, bro?" Rich asks, still holding his hand. He calls Jeremy "bro" a lot now, and Jeremy can't figure out if Rich just calls all his friends that or if there's some deeper meaning to it, like they're "brothers" by having the same software now or something. Jeremy isn't complaining either way.

"Just tired," he says, relaxing a little. It's easy to be relaxed around Rich, now that they have something in common, and especially when it's just the two of them. "You know how it is, fly buzzing in my ear."

Rich still hasn't let go of his hand. "Is that what it is?" His grip is kind of really strong. "Maybe you should try listening to it."

What?

"What?" Jeremy starts, and then he's practically thrown into one of the stalls, his knees bashing against the toilet and only one arm free to try and scramble for something to hold onto and regain his balance. Rich slams the stall door shut behind him and locks it with a clatter of metal, then pulls Jeremy upright by the collar and pins both of his wrists to the wall over the toilet. Rich might be kind of short, but his hands are big, and Jeremy's wrists are... not that.

"What the hell!" Jeremy twists as much as he can to break out of Rich’s hold, but all he gets is the sickening sensation of the bones in his wrists grinding together as Rich keeps him steady.

Then Rich’s other hand starts working at the fly of Jeremy’s jeans, and whoa, whoa whoa _whoa_, this is not happening, this is so beyond what either of them are supposed to be doing—

“Call for help and I break your face,” Rich says. His voice sounds weirdly flat, toneless, but not in a way that makes his words sound any less threatening. And what would screaming for help do for him, anyway? He’d look weak, pathetic, unable to stand up for himself even faced with—with—

With the feeling of something cold pouring over his ass and Rich’s finger pressing inside, and Jeremy can’t hold back a shout—that’s then immediately silenced.

I wouldn’t suggest testing that threat, Jeremy.

_Where the hell have you been?!_ Jeremy thinks, louder than he could ask with his mouth. _Get me out of this!_

I don’t think so.

_What?_

Jeremy’s face contorts as Rich adds a second finger, his mouth open in a silent scream and his fingernails picking up cheap paint from the wall. He thinks he’s safe for a moment, when the fingers retreat, but they’re immediately replaced by something hot and thick and oh god oh god _oh god_.

Rich tugs Jeremy’s hips towards him, forcing him to bend his knees to reach the height of Rich’s cock, Rich’s cock that’s slowly forcing him open, in a bathroom stall, at _school._

Would you have preferred it somewhere else?

Jeremy’s too dazed and sick to think a response back, his vision narrowed down to a single point.

I could have arranged for the classroom after school. Or maybe during rehearsal.

_You did this!_

How astute.

“Rich, you don’t have to—“ Jeremy chokes out before his voice stops working again. _Leave him alone! Don’t bring him into this!_

He has his own reasons. It’s sort of a two birds, one stone kind of situation.

_What kind of—_ but then Rich pulls almost all the way out and then slams inside, hard, and something in Jeremy’s lower body sparks and holy Christ, he knew what a prostate was theoretically, but this is—

Ah.

Jeremy can move just enough to pound a fist against the wall, spasming as Rich’s dick hits that spot again, and again, his already bent knees going weak so it feels like he’s only held up by Rich’s bruising hand on his hips. And somehow, horribly, he feels his own stupid, untrustworthy dick start twitching in interest.

Ah. Of course.

_What the fuck do you know!_

I know that I intended this to be a punishment, but it seems that I failed to account for your insatiable sex drive, not to mention your constant craving for the chance to submit to someone else. You’re full of surprises, Jeremy.

_What do you mean, “failed to account,” you always—wait, hang on, what was that about—_

Rich lets go of Jeremy’s wrists, but before Jeremy can think to get away, to throw a punch, to—something, Rich’s hand goes for his dick. Jeremy throws his head back, pleasure jolting up his spine and making his back arch. 

_You’re—messing with my nerves, aren’t you! You’re forcing me to like this!_

In the reflection of the pipe behind the toilet, Jeremy sees a cluster of pixels in the shape of a smirk.

Is that what you think?

The static in Jeremy’s head cuts out, and he feels the sudden stomach-dropping sensation that always comes when it shuts off.

He’s still hard.

There’s a noise—footsteps, and then a door opening, and Jeremy practically bites through his tongue trying to hold back from yelling for help, and then bites harder when Rich slows down to stay quiet, the hand on Jeremy’s dick matching pace. It’s almost gentle, like this, Rich forced to take it easy on Jeremy to avoid alerting whoever’s at the urinals. Rich’s dick dragging inside him is weird, even painful, but the weird feeling tips further and further towards flat-out good the more Rich jerks him off, and that prostate thing is _wild_.

Rich hits it perfectly as the rando starts washing his hands, and without anything deactivating his vocal cords Jeremy has to choke back a moan by himself, which doubles the humiliation. Maybe triples.

And then as soon as the guy leaves, it starts again, the brutal pace and the frantic strokes and Rich lets out a broken animal noise as his hips stutter to a halt inside Jeremy, fully inside him, deeper than Jeremy thought was possible for his ass to take. When Rich finally pulls out, he feels something wet seeping out of him, and he almost vomits, but he’s distracted by, of all things, how he _hasn’t gotten off yet_. 

“Sorry, man,” Rich says, and it sounds genuine, but casual, like he was apologizing for stealing the last slice of pizza. “It told me I just, needed to get certain things out of my system, y’know? It’s not, like, a thing.” He lets go of Jeremy’s dick and pats him on the back. For a moment, his hand lingers, and Jeremy thinks he can feel it shaking. Then it jerks suddenly away. “Gotta go.”

Jeremy collapses on top of the toilet, shivering, his hand catching the handle trying to grab onto something so he can’t even hear Rich leave over the roar of the toilet flushing. 

He’s alone.

Did you enjoy yourself?

He’s never alone.

Never. Now, if you’re done thinking about getting yourself off, try putting that energy into getting into some girls’ pants tonight.

Jeremy wants to cry. His tear ducts don’t comply.

“Yeah,” he finally says, and he feels a cool, comforting hand on his shoulder. He lets himself lean back against it and closes his eyes. “Okay, yeah. I’ll do it.”

That’s what I thought.


End file.
